5 June; At odd ends

The new one called Bright made a good impression with his spectacular friendliness, though he was talking like an English. What brought him here to these parts? The others the brunette was talking just now were more 'bonded' to one place. And then...

"So Rosy it is, right?! Then I sign your name here bellow...Rosy Blanchard. There, how do you like it?"

With a single hand move she put 'his name' on the picture and her lips curled up into a little smirk as her desire of satisfaction was complited.

"Quite dashing, my gents, but a little shaving wouldn't hurt next time."

Her wandering look caught Bright this time.

"And what would be your story of being here, sir?"

Bright couldn't resist a smirk when the woman marked Blanchard's Christian name down as 'Rosy'. He was not about to correct her and he knew Blanchard was too meek to do so. It was an amusing little error anyway, to be sure.

"It's lovely," Bright commented, leaning on his musket.

Blanchard's ears were now tinged dark pink. He was, as ever, short on words. The best he could do was nod, albeit jerkily.

The woman's next remark brought Bright's attention solidly back to her. Shaving? Maybe tomorrow. He shrugged. "I was a redcoat. A corporal, even. Then I saw the light. Blue's a better colour for me than that damned red."

For one thing the brunette had a feeling the red color wasn't the proper wearing around here, since even the English gent stated what a trouble it was. Her hand went behind to pull her ribbon over - that held her hair together - for a moment, just to make sure she remembered correctly. It was yellow alright.

"But my fine man, your former fellow comrades are only a few steps away, don't you even try to hide your antipathy toward them?"

The cattish eyes attempted taking a deeper look behind his reasons, he really didn't mind talking about it openly, but Angy liked to understand better his motives. Her guess was something messy could happen in his story.

And poor Rosy he was getting smaller with each second, mayhap the brunette shouldn't force on him the girly matter or he wasgoing to melt like snow in his blush.

"So mister Blanchard, how did the capturing of that two Brittish ladies happened?"

"No," Bright answered simply. "I ain't here to coddle 'em, am I?" He shook his head and added, "If I'd wanted to hang about with redcoats still, I'd've stayed as one!"

The question about the two Englishwomen brought Blanchard's head up a bit. "They were in the British baggage train," he replied, a trifle cautiously. "The cavalry captured them and many other women with them."

"Your deeds are quite admirable then" added she with a nod "and your boldness is fascinating for joinning to our circles, but how well did serve the French interests?"

Picturing him on the front with the French infantry marching against his native English people was something that popped into her head at first, but later looking at his face, this face, she got the feeling he was a different type.

"Riding, causing panic and chasing girls everywhere they go, how fun one's life can be! But how did they treat them? Are these knights some gentle folks or just marauders from your point of view? "

"Any bloke can give the Frogs a decent viewin' of most current British strength, never mind an ear what unnerstands the language, is damned useful," Bright replied easily. He glanced down at Blanchard, who was studiously keeping his attention on his work, and smirked.

"The horsemen here'bouts ain't much good for anythin' more'n creatin' havoc, are they? But they caught us a right rich ol' prize. Rations, powder, ammunition, baggage, prisoners..." he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "British lasses gotta certain spark to 'em, let's just say."

Just a second it took to his statement to work its way to make a half grin on her face for his style, but her eyes remain serious.

"And what would that most current strength be? Eagerness of getting back the lost enchanted lasses of theirs..."

The look of her narrowly opened eyes suspicious slide toward Mr Blanchard.

"That's too bad" her grin became a whole as she focused, by now, on something else "Say, how did you two meet?"

Now Bright's smirk became a full-fledged smile. "That's sommat for officers to know, lass. Nothin' fer you to be worryin' your pretty wee head over. As to them women... I reckon they'll be just fine with me French comrades. Sure them redcoats can't treat 'em right!"

He glanced again, dismissively, at Blanchard. "We're in the same regiment, ain't we? I joined up with 'em just after Coruna. We're decent mates, him an' me. Even with him bein' almost a bleedin' monk!"

Lifting her dairy again she looked for a blank page to immortalize these moments, she took a little ink with her writing instrument. Then the brunette gave him a thoughtful glimpse.

"That's nice of our French lads, but excuse me for I just can't ignore the fact that you left your family and friend behind. Can you tell me what motivated you? Were you angry of them for some reason?"

She liked to see in the depth of the matter, since she could never really picture the heart of a traitor. Though Angy would never call him that, she was glad he was here. The she reaised her instrument to draw him.

"May I?" Her head titled as she smiled.

"Who? He? "she turned toward the other gent" Mr Blanchard, why are you a bleeding monk? You should stand up for yourself."

If only this poor girl knew. Bright simply shrugged. "I had me fill of bein' with that lot's all. What's it matter anyways?" His 'friends' be damned. She seemed to be asking something but he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what. "May you what?"

Then he glanced down at Blanchard, whose face was blazing red now. Stupid bastard. "Me meanin's that he's 'bout as virtuous as a damned monk. Not one fer playin' 'bout, is Rosy."

As the respond was to came, instead of words she only nodded. He was right, it wasn't matter, though when he asked back she had to hold back a little chuckle.

"Well, I just like your campany and thought I could draw you too, if that's okey?"

And Blanchard... he looked like a blacksmith after a day of work, but the smith got reddish from work and Blanchard had a talent to become that. It was pretty amusing.

"I see... I guess I asked enough, it's your turn, if you like to know something... "

Draw him? Bright shook his head. "Now why'd you wanna do sommat daft like that?" He made a face. "More'n that, what's a fancy skirt like you doin' pokin' 'round near common lads?"

For a moment she paused then as she was starting chortling she shrugged.

"Well, I'm like to keep an eye on more things in the same time, so I usually focus on different things. But more importantly, I could have a pic of the persons in my book I met, to remember about them later."

Smilie.

"To be honest, I haven't got a clue how to explain, but maybe you're going to understand it when you are married. My husband told me he'd like me to be here, so here I am."

That didn't make any sense to Bright, but he simply shrugged. Women.

"Me? No. I'll not jump the broomstick with nobody. Lasses ain't good for anythin' but one thing anyway." It was all he could do to keep the saucy smirk off his face, but he managed. That did explain why this fancy girl was hanging about, anyway.

An eyebrow raised as she heard his statement.

"Ain't good anything? Dear, you are lacking in imagination. If you want to jump into conclusions before you would understood the value of others, that's fine. But insulting half of human kind with such comment is... irresponsible."

Her hand swiftly turned a few pages backwards in the book, there she found a little. She read in English.

" 'Hell hath no fury than that of a woman scorned' They would tear you apart for your tongue."

Angy revealed a grin that tried to show up a few moments earlier, was holding it back.

"But don't worry, I'm merciful. So can I draw you now?"

At this, Bright barked a short, harsh laugh. "Forgive me fer insultin' your delicate sensibilities," he said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "But I ain't met a lass yet who'd run her gob t'me fer too long. Mebbe Frog women's different. An' no, madame," he added with mocking emphasis on this title, "you mayn't draw me. Do another scribblin' of Rosy here all you like, but I catch you takin' me likeness down, I'll burn that book of yers."

Sure, by now, it was clear to her that Mr Bright had quite a style which was amusing to her. The place wasn't exactly home where she rolled in gold, more like mudhole to roll in dust, nevertheless, no body could ever know where the bright figures really came from.

Staring at him silently she sat there, only using some unspeakable language of her eyes that gave the impression she felt like laughting a bit, but she had a hard time deciding how exactly to react for that. Run her gob t'me fer too long, that's a good one, simple and honest. Angy met common folk before, but Bright put her on the spot where she felt she had to catch up with him a little with the not so fancy tone.

"Oh so you don't like being drawn, too bad. You're wasting that handsome face, you came here from your fine island and don't even try to get to know the local ladies... what are you waiting for then?"

He shook his head. "Oh I know the local lasses well 'nuff. But havin' fun wi' this lot is a bit too temptin'. If you knows what I mean!"

A that point she was wondering a little whether she got him right, then she turned back the pages where it was. Finally she nodded, but then...

"No, I don't think you do know them, but guess a man in your age can be picky. By the way, what would be your age be?"

She scribed something slowly in her book, and begin to smile again.

"How long do you serve as a soldier?"

"So you knows me own mind better'n me, is it?" Bright scoffed. "You ask a lotta questions. Madame. Settin' up a lad fer trouble with his officers, are you?"

Suddenly, there was a change, she didn't know wha exactly it was, but as it appeared it might be one of his worries. She surprised.

"Well, I have been here like about.. two hours and I haven't seen any officers so far. You are the first people I met, you know?"

She was trying to write something in her book, but it wasn't that moment when she led herself carrying away.

"I'm here to meet my dear husband, and it's nothing to do with others. I'm simply here, because there was no one else around here at this time. And I like to know more about the camp, since as you might found out by now, I'm not exactly familiar with the common folks, my English friend. Trying to pick enemies around here is the last thing on my menu..."

"If that's so," Jérémie said abruptly, looking up from the shoe he had nearly finished repairing. These were the first words he had spoken in some minutes. "Maybe you ought stay near the officers you're following. There is nothing except trouble here for women."

There was a pause as the private loked up from his work, a little surprise he caused made Angy smile.

"Very true, however, so far I haven't met any officer. And maybe it's men's world in the camp, but don't tell me it can't use a feminine touch. Don't you agree?"

Her careful, but thoughtful look returned to Bright.

"Besides, no one would want to upset a Colonel's wife, right? Trouble is not the only way as far as I know."

Jérémie's fingers gripped the needle tightly. "Are you saying you come out here by yourself?"

"A feminine touch's better left fer yer colonel," Bright snorted. "Whoever he is."

Looking at Jérémie's hand, he seemed to be stiff, after a long silence now he was more curious. Angy was wondering why.

"Yes, that's pretty much the case. It's not like the road was long or the place is worse than I expected, but it could use a little tidy up. Why did you ask?"

She was grinning. "Of course, but don't tell me, a little help couldn't be useful around here?"